If what she'd heard coming from the vent was true, then everything had just changed for Christofer. He had a chance now, a chance to live, to have someone of his own who could make him happy and she refused to take that away from him. He'd sacrificed enough for her.

Opening her eyes, she released a shaky breath, laid back on the bed and placed the letter on the bed by the drawing. Sending up one last prayer for Christofer and Cloe, she closed her eyes for the last time.

Chapter 21.

"Look, I've gotta get going before the sun......." Seth's words trailed off. He shot Christofer a questioning look just as a rather sweet and enticing aroma teased Christofer's senses, making his stomach growl.

"What is that?" Christofer asked even as he opened his senses. What he heard had him taking a step towards the stairs. The instinct to protect his sister was so well ingrained that he found himself heading towards the stairs, but for the first time in his life, he hesitated. He looked over his shoulder at the pale, defenseless woman that needed him and growled out a vicious curse.

He couldn't leave her.

"Pull the tube out," he ordered Seth as he quickly moved back to the bed to scoop Cloe up in his arms, but before he could pick her up there was a knock at his door.

"Oh, this can't be good," Seth grumbled, sounding drained as he plopped down on the edge of the bed and dropped his head in his hands.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?" Christofer demanded, not really sure how he should be reacting.

Seth just sat there, looking tired and a little annoyed as the knocking continued. There wasn't a hint of fear or anger coming off him to alert Christofer to any impending danger. He just looked.......

Resigned.

"Sentinels," Seth said, seconds before he tilted his head to the side, scented the air, frowned, shook his head and cursed softly before adding, "and a shifter and humans."

Before Christofer could react to the knowledge that a shifter was at his door, Seth added, "I wouldn't worry about the shifter though since he's with Sentinels."

He started to nod in the process of absorbing that information before a thought occurred to him. "What the h.e.l.l is a Sentinel?"

Pursing his lips up in thought, Seth asked, "I didn't tell you about Sentinels?"

"No," he bit out, his patience wearing thin.

"Oh," Seth said, sighing as he lazily gestured towards the back door when the pounding started. "Those are Sentinels."

"That's really f.u.c.king helpful!" he snapped, putting himself between the door and Cloe.

He welcomed the shift in his eyesight and the tingle of his fangs sliding down. His gaze constantly shifted between the door and the stairway. This was wrong, his brain screamed, demanding that he go to Marta and protect her, but the rest of him....

The rest of him demanded that he keep his a.s.s right where it was and protect what was his. Cloe was defenseless and needed him. The idea of leaving her like this, even with Seth to watch over her, felt wrong. His gaze shifted back towards the stairs and he felt his body jerk in that direction, the instinct to go to his sister, to protect her so well ingrained that he couldn't simply ignore it. Marta was his sister, his responsibility and he knew that she would always come first. He'd made a promise to his father and he planned on keeping it.

"Protect her!" he snapped, ignoring the panic and terror that shot through him at the idea of turning his back on Cloe, but for his sister he did it.

Ignoring Seth's long-suffering sigh, he took the stairs two at time as he opened up his senses. Before he made it hallway up the stairs he knew three things, there were three people in his house, they weren't human and he couldn't hear Marta's heartbeat.

"Wake up, sweetheart," Ephraim said, giving the frail hand in his a small squeeze, already knowing that it was too late. He carefully pushed back a strand of gray hair away from the face that held the unmistakable expression of peace that he knew too well.

She was gone.

"Cancer," Caine suddenly announced, confirming his suspicions.

"Can you tell what kind?" Ephraim asked, unable to pinpoint exactly where the scent was coming from. He could smell hints of the deadly growth all over her body, which surprised him since it wasn't normally something that he could detect until it hit the skin. Then again, he'd been living with a woman who was doomed to die for eternity from the horrible disease so perhaps his senses were sharpened because of Danni.

"Brain, heart, bone, stomach, uterus and kidneys," Danni listed hollowly by his side.

"How bad was the growth?" Ephraim asked as his gaze moved away from the frail old woman to settle on the note and drawing on the bed beside her.

He didn't need to open it to know what it was. It also confirmed his belief that the male downstairs had no idea that this woman was dead. If he had, that note wouldn't be crisply folded by her side and placed neatly on the pillow still. His gaze moved over to the nightstand that was covered in prescription bottles, the five bottles by the edge were empty with their covers placed by their sides.

"We need to warn him," Ephraim said, giving the quickly cooling hand another small squeeze as he said a quick prayer for her soul, hoping that she'd found some peace.

"He already knows," Caine mumbled softly as he slowly backed up and moved away from the door, pausing only long enough to grab Danni's hand and pull her back with him.

With a small nod, Ephraim stood and stepped back away from the bed, wishing that they'd broken into the house sooner so that this woman hadn't been all alone when she'd taken her last breath. Being with his brother Marc as he'd drawn his last breath had been the only thing that had made his death somewhat tolerable. He hadn't been able to save Marc from the fever, but at least he'd been there to give his brother some comfort in his last moments. It was something that the Pyte they were here for was going to regret not being able to do for his sister for the rest of his unnatural life.

"Marta?" the man they were here for said, his tone laced with desperation and dread. He stumbled into the room, no doubt already knowing what to expect, but still fighting it with every fiber of his being, not that Ephraim could blame him.

"Marta?" Christofer murmured, confirming his suspicions that this was the woman listed as his sister. Christofer moved towards the bed, his voice cracking with emotion when he spotted her lying on the bed with her hands resting on her stomach. His gaze moved from the empty prescription bottles and then the note on the bed. "Oh.........G.o.d........"

Danni took a step towards the grieving man, but Caine smartly kept her with him. Ephraim shifted to the side, putting himself between the Pyte dropping to his knees by the bed and Danni. Without taking his eyes off Christofer, he held up a hand and gave the signal for Caine to take Danni out of the room. Thankfully this time Danni didn't argue. Instead, she allowed her mate to push her gently in front of him and left the room.

Never taking his eyes off the Pyte trying to rouse Marta, Ephraim opened his senses and listened as Danni and Caine headed towards the woman, a marked woman judging by the scent that he'd picked up a half mile down the road, and a vampire in the bas.e.m.e.nt. A few seconds later he heard Chris mutter a curse as he registered the click of a lock, letting him know that his son and the pain in the a.s.s shifter that they were stuck with were now inside.

Knowing that the situation downstairs was handled and that his son was safely away from the Pyte that was most likely seconds from losing it, he was able to focus on the man in front of him. His hair was shorter and his clothes were just as simple as they had been in the old black and white images that Izzy had sent to his iPad. This was definitely Christofer Petersen, the Pyte they'd been sent to retrieve before Masters saw that Facebook post and came after him.

"Marta? Marta!" the Pyte cried, a sob breaking free as he gently shook the woman. "No! G.o.dd.a.m.nit, no!"

His grief was so raw that it d.a.m.n near knocked Ephraim on his a.s.s. If it had been anyone else he would have stepped out of the room and given the man some time alone with his sister, but this wasn't anyone else. This was a Pyte who could lose it at any second and make the world pay for his pain and with his son in the house that wasn't an option.

Chris was a Sentinel. He was a h.e.l.l of a lot stronger than humans. He could probably go a few rounds with a Pyte under normal circ.u.mstances, but once the Pyte lost control and went into bloodl.u.s.t Chris was just as vulnerable as any human. Even though Chris had the ability to heal faster than humans, there were still some things that he would never be able to heal from and a Pyte on a rampage was one of those things.

"Don't leave me, Marta!" Christofer begged, gently pulling the woman's frail body in his arms. "Don't leave me," he sobbed, gently rocking the woman in his arms as though she were a baby seconds before he began singing what sounded like a lullaby in German.

Ephraim swallowed, wishing that he could be anywhere but here. G.o.d, he didn't think that he could take another minute of this, because he knew without a doubt that one day that he would be in the same position when Madison's grandmother pa.s.sed away. He cared about that woman a great deal and it killed him that he couldn't save her. Her loss was something that he wouldn't be able to avoid, but his children.....

He'd be d.a.m.ned if he was going to be forced to sit around and wait for any of his children or grandchildren to take their last breaths. When it was time, he was going to change Jill, his grandchildren and hopefully Chris and Izzy whether or not the Council approved. This wasn't their call to make no matter what they believed.

Christofer didn't even look his way, no doubt blinded by his grief as he moved to sit on the bed and hold his sister in his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face as he continued to rock the woman in his arms as he sang to her. As Ephraim watched, he couldn't help but wonder why Christofer hadn't changed her years ago when she'd been young enough to handle the change. Then again, maybe he already had a mate or he simply didn't know how to change someone without killing them. The way that Christofer held his sister in his arms told him that it was the latter. He probably would have done anything to save her.

They should be leaving, putting as much distance between themselves and this house as quickly as possible, but he just couldn't force himself to interrupt this man's grief. He needed a chance to say goodbye and he was going to give it to- A vicious growl suddenly tore through the small bedroom as Christofer's head snapped up. His red eyes focused on the open doorway as he bared his fangs in another vicious snarl. Wondering if they were too late, Ephraim opened his senses expecting to hear a small army descending on the house, but there was nothing. He was just about to go outside and do a quick sweep of the area just in case they were being descended upon by demons when he heard it.

"She needs to be moved to the van," Chris said, just as Ephraim heard a bed dip beneath someone's weight. With a curse, he detected the unmistakable scent of his son's scent mingling with the marked woman's. His son had seriously f.u.c.ked up.

"Relax," Ephraim said, stepping in front of the door as he held up his hands, hoping to talk some sense into the Pyte before it was too late, "we're here to help you, Christofer."

The vicious snarl that followed wasn't exactly encouraging. Neither was the fact that the Pyte seemed to be looking right through him, oblivious to the fact that he was standing there, trying to stop him from tearing his son apart. So much for this being an easy extraction, Ephraim thought. He watched the Pyte press one last kiss against his sister's forehead as his attention remained fixed on the door. With one last mumbled goodbye to his sister, Christofer headed for the door.

"Christofer," Ephraim said, stressing the Pyte's name as he held up his hand in a stopping motion. "I'm going to need you to calm-oh, f.u.c.k," he said, the last part leaving him in a pained grunt as a very large, and very p.i.s.sed off, Pyte in bloodl.u.s.t slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying across the hallway into the living room where an old television and a wall broke his fall. He heard several sickening cracks as bones broke and his head was whacked against what felt like a fireplace before he was dropped on his a.s.s with a weak grunt.

"That's the last f.u.c.king time that I ever try to negotiate with a Pyte in bloodl.u.s.t," he muttered, wincing in pain as he forced himself to get to his unsteady feet. Ignoring the black dots cascading his vision, he pulled his weapon free from its holster at his back and went after the Pyte.

"Calm the f.u.c.k down!" he heard Chris shout as he made it into the kitchen.

"I told you not to pick her up, you dumb b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Kale snapped just as Ephraim headed down the stairs.

When he made it down the last step, he found Kale standing in front of Chris. Holding the marked woman in his arms, Chris tried to back up towards the door where the vampire stood, looking terrified and for good reason.

"Mine!" Christofer snarled as he backhanded Kale, sending the shifter flying across the room and getting rid of the one thing that was standing between him and Ephraim's son.

"s.h.i.t!" Chris groaned, looking torn between placing the innocent woman down so that he could fight the furious Pyte and keeping her in his arms so that he could protect her.

Deciding that enough was enough, Ephraim released the safety off his weapon, raised the gun, aimed it at the back of Christofer's head and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 22.

"We're not bringing her back to the house!" a man shouted, jolting Cloe awake.

Gasping for air, she opened her eyes and quickly scanned the room. Terror sank in as her mind registered her last waking moment, the moment she'd accepted death and the fact that she would never get the chance to kill the son of a b.i.t.c.h that attacked her. Her hands shot up to her neck, frantically searching for the torn skin and blood that she knew should have been there, but instead her fingers met only smooth, sticky skin. Anxiously licking her dry lips, she sat up and scooted back as she quickly glanced around the room only to discover that she was in a hotel room. The second thing she noticed was the large b.a.s.t.a.r.d that had attacked her lying on the bed next to her with his hands cuffed to the headboard, appearing dead to the world and looking hotter than ever with several days of beard growth.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

She took a shaky breath as memories a.s.saulted her. He'd attacked her. He'd actually attacked her! The man that she'd stupidly allowed herself to feel safe with had attacked her, she fumed, her anger building to a dangerous degree. Every muscle tensed, her jaw clenched tightly until she was literally seeing red, which only told her just how p.i.s.sed she was if she'd actually managed to burst the capillaries in her eyes.

Moving off the bed, she got to her feet, not really surprised that her legs were trembling since she was literally shaking with rage. That son of a b.i.t.c.h! She forced herself to move closer as she glared down at the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who looked nothing like the monster that had attacked her. Right now he somehow looked handsome and peaceful even though he was handcuffed to a bed and covered in dried blood.

Dried blood.....

Her blood!

Furious at the realization, she looked around the hotel room, hoping to find a weapon that she could use to pay the b.a.s.t.a.r.d back for what he'd done to her. When she didn't find anything weapon-worthy she grabbed the closest thing to her. Not really caring that it was a pillow and that it wouldn't do any serious damage, she started to beat the s.h.i.t out of him with it. Barely two hits in and the d.a.m.n thing practically disintegrated in her hands, clumps of cheap cotton filling and torn pieces of the pillow casing covered the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, the bed and floor, but he didn't stir, p.i.s.sing her off even more!

With a frustrated growl, she looked around again for something else to beat the s.h.i.t out of him with when something occurred to her. It was something that probably should have occurred to her as soon as she woke up to find herself in a strange hotel room and Christofer was handcuffed to the bed. Someone had grabbed them and dragged them off to wherever the h.e.l.l they were.

They'd obviously realized that Christofer was dangerous, something that she'd apparently missed, and had handcuffed him to the bed. They either hadn't expected her to wake up at all or they'd a.s.sumed that she wasn't going to be a problem. Yeah, they were wrong about that, because if they didn't let her go, promise her that Marta was okay, give her back her phone, keys, etc. and bring her a.s.s back to the house so that she could check on Marta then she was going to be a very big problem for them.

Her hand went back to her neck, ran over the smooth skin again, and for a split second she had to wonder if she'd dreamed the entire thing, but she knew deep down that it hadn't been a dream. It had been too detailed, too real and the fear and pain had been too much for a dream. The memory of the attack was solid with none of the weird pauses or missing details that a dream, a nightmare really, would have created.

No, the attack definitely happened and based on how well the wound had healed it had been a while since it happened. Keeping her hand where it was, she sent one last glare at the b.a.s.t.a.r.d out cold on the bed and walked into the bathroom, flicking the light on as she went. Maybe there was a scab or bruises left, something that would give her a hint of how long......of how.....

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"

The denial rushed out of her mouth as she shook her head frantically. She stumbled back the short distance until her back slammed back against the wall, leaving her with no where else to go, nowhere to hide from the ugly truth that stared back at her in horror.

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. There was no way. This part was definitely a dream, a horrible dream that she would wake up from at any minute. She'd most likely be in a lot of pain, her neck still torn apart and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d would still be tearing into her throat, but it would save her from this nightmare and right now that was okay with her.

She stared in horror at the image in the mirror as it stared right back at her, looking terrified. This wasn't her. She didn't have red eyes and she sure as h.e.l.l didn't have fangs in her mouth. This was not happening.

"Please don't let this be happening," she mumbled, feeling desperate as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth, praying that this was someone's idea of a sick joke. She touched the tip of one fang with her fingertip, hoping the pressure would be enough to knock the obviously fake tooth out of her mouth.

Instead, she pulled her finger back with a wince as the sharp tip p.r.i.c.ked her finger, drawing a drop of blood. This was real. It wasn't a dream. It was either that or her mind was registering pain that her unconscious body was experiencing at the moment and carrying it into this dream. Please let it be- "You're not dreaming," a deep voice suddenly announced, cutting into her panicked thoughts and drawing her attention to three very large, and very gorgeous men, standing in the hotel room behind her.

"Yes, I am," she said weakly, hating how her voice cracked, but hating the way her chin trembled even more.

"Why don't we have a seat and I'll see if I can explain everything without scaring you," the tallest of the three men, the one with jet black hair and baby blue eyes, suggested with what appeared to be a friendly smile, but that's not what had her reluctantly nodding and doing what he asked.

He had the tone of a cop, a seasoned one at that. He appeared professional, calm and understanding, which made her relax just enough to agree to sit down and hear him out. It was either that or losing it and right now she didn't think that she could handle losing it. She was afraid that if she lost it that there would be no coming back this time. In the back of her mind she realized that she was most likely in shock, which was probably the real reason why she was going along with this so calmly.

Never taking her eyes off the three men that made no secret of watching her every move, she took the seat by the door, needing to know that she could leave if she had to. With another one of those rea.s.suring smiles, the tall, devastatingly handsome man sat opposite her while the largest of the three men, the one with dark brown hair, killer green eyes and a nasty pink scar on his neck, sat down on the corner of the bed she'd found herself lying on barely a half hour ago.

His attention was on her, but she could tell by the way he'd angled himself that he was keeping an eye on Christofer as well. When he raised his right hand to rub the back of his neck, she noted the white gauze wrapped around his wrist. She quickly noted that the man sitting across from her also had white gauze wrapped around his right wrist. Frowning, her attention shot to the man leaning back against the wall, his murderous glare focused on her. Feeling a little unnerved by his attention, she quickly noted that he didn't have any white gauze on his right wrist and focused her attention back on the man sitting across from her.

"How are you feeling, Cloe?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, his attention never leaving her, his expression curious as though her answer was important to him.

"Fine," she mumbled absently as she caught the sound of a cart being pushed past their room, the noise of a squeaky wheel had her wincing and wondering just how thin the room's walls were.

If she screamed for help, would anyone hear her, she wondered, trying not to cringe as that same cart came to a stop in front of their door. The sounds of overly starched cotton rubbing together and sneakers shifting on gravel had her wincing at the sudden a.s.sault to her ears. Before she could recover or even wonder what that was about, the a.s.sault on her nose immediately followed.

The coppery tang scent of old blood, expensive aftershave, sweat, dust, old cigarette smoke, body odor and a thousand odors that she could have happily lived her life without ever smelling together again, seemed to be hitting her all at once. Just when she didn't think that she could handle anymore, an extremely sweet fragrance hit her, making her stomach growl in hunger and her gums throb painfully. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but that just ended up making her gag when she realized that she could actually taste the scents in the air. The a.s.sault on her ears intensified. The shades of red that refused to go away seemed to sharpen, become brighter and darker until she couldn't take it anymore. She was forced to squeeze her eyes shut, cup her hands over her ears and hold her breath, gagging again as the sounds around the room seemed to explode, shooting sharp pain through her head.

"When was the last time she ate?" the man sitting across from her suddenly seemed to shout.

"Please don't yell," Cloe whispered, too afraid to raise her voice, but even the sound of her whisper was too much to take. Thankfully, he didn't say anything else.

The sounds of the cart being pushed away, of the men breathing and moving, ricocheted through her head, made staying upright impossible. She needed to lie down or find a bathroom, she decided as the pain shooting through her head had a nasty effect on her stomach. Opening one eye just so that she could get a general sense of where the bed was, she quickly shut it. She stumbled to her feet and hauled a.s.s across the room, not stopping until she was curled up on the bed, her face buried against Christofer's chest. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held on, terrified that one of the men was going to drag her away.

Right now it didn't matter that he was a monster or that he'd tried to kill her. The only thing that mattered to her was the way he made her feel, safe. She knew that the feeling was false, but right now she really didn't give a d.a.m.n, not when being next to him helped. It also didn't hurt that his scent seemed to make everything better. She could still smell the old coppery smell of blood coming off him, but just barely. Needing an escape from this sensory overload, she kept her face buried against him, her hand fisted in his shirt and worked on ignoring everything else until she finally felt herself relax and drift off. This time she decided not to fight it, not even when she felt the b.a.s.t.a.r.d beneath her begin to stir.

"Try not to move," a man whispered before Christofer had a chance to open his eyes. "She just fell asleep and unless you want her in pain, you'll let her stay that way."

He didn't need to ask to know that Cloe was lying on top of him, holding onto him for dear life. Slowly, he opened his eyes, opening his senses and taking in his surroundings. His gaze shot down to Cloe, needing to make sure that she was really okay. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were worse, but her skin color was good, she felt warm against him and her heartbeat was strong and steady, which meant....

That she'd survived.

Cloe had taken his blood and not only survived, but if what Seth said was correct, then she was going to be just like him. She'd never age. She'd heal from anything as long as she drank blood. The best part, she would be strong, strong enough to protect herself against the b.a.s.t.a.r.d that had marked her. He was relieved that it had worked, but another part of him, the part that was struggling to accept the memories forcing their way to the front of his mind felt like a part of him was dying.